


Babykills

by Kabella



Series: Endurance [3]
Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Desperation, Drugs, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, M/M, Pills, Russian Roulette, Sadness, Shame, Suicide Attempt, Sunshine - Freeform, not what i thought would happen, shackled, they wont remember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabella/pseuds/Kabella
Summary: Tommy Lee is literally at the end of his rope. His jail sentence has been more than he can handle.He contemplates doing the worst thing he could; dismissing everyone who might have a shred of compassion for him.How's Nikki going to handle this mess?
Relationships: Tommy Lee/Nikki Sixx
Series: Endurance [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902748
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	Babykills

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaintOfLosAngeles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintOfLosAngeles/gifts).



> Warning, warning, warning: if my prior piece, Uncle Jack, was not your taste or too much for you, I would recommend that you back out of this one.
> 
> Trigger warning: we got a suicide attempt here. Please proceed with caution if this is a trigger for you. It's a story of desperation, ending with hope. There's always hope.
> 
> It's detailed, but not graphic.
> 
> This is just a little side project from my current series; sort of a deviation from the story, an alternate version for the ending for my prior piece Uncle Jack. This story would pick up right before the shower accident with jail warden and the handprint card.
> 
> Another writer and I have been discussing hard-to-tackle subject matters. I hope I went the right direction here, and did the topic justice.
> 
> My next 3 upcoming stories lay off the hard subject matter of things like abuse and suicide, and are just angsty. Eventually, I'll finish the series with the remaining titles. They'll be much more upbeat.
> 
> I titled this on Babykills, which is included on the remastered version of the '94 album as a bonus track. One because this is a deviation from the main story, just as the song is. And two because Tommy is the band's baby. Also if you've read my books, you begin to see that Nikki calls Tommy babe or baby. A standard pet name because he's new to the world love. Tommy calls Nikki his love. He knows Nikki needs to hear that.
> 
> I'll probably feel the need to post another upbeat story from my WP collection to balance this one. We'll see. I might lay off. Otherwise the next story in this series will be in another day or 2.

**Babykills**

A few days had passed since Tommy devised his plan for suicide. He’s never felt so much emotional pain, as he is now. The physical brutality isn’t helping the matter, but he thinks he could handle beatings, daily aches, stiffness from sleeping on a thin mattress, and headaches and bad food, if it wasn’t for the onslaught of emotional torture. The physical pain turns into emotional distress, along with loneliness, boredom, hallucinations of the walls closing in, bad dreams, FEAR, worthlessness, uselessness, abandonment, forgotten, hopelessness. The emotional distress develops into physical pain; achiness, tight breathing, headaches, blurriness. It’s a vicious cycle that won’t stop. 

Tommy thinks about each person who he believes might be affected in some way by his suicide. His wife will be relieved. His kids won’t remember him. His family, well they’re already amazed that he’s even still here. The band, they’ll be pissed; the brotherhood has been lost. And Nikki? He knows he’ll be hurt, but he’s positive Nikki will eventually realize that he can breathe more easily, as time goes on, understanding how much their secretive relationship was weighing him down. 

He also thinks about other fallout, like the way the press and media will handle it. What will his legacy be? Probably terrible. A spoiled, hedonistic musician from a controversial band, a horrible husband, a weak father; pretty much a loser who no one will care about or even remember by the following year. He thinks maybe the only thing positive he’ll be remembered for is his innovation with his drum solos. Maybe. 

Tommy takes time to think about himself. Can he do this? There’s no undoing it. Is he ready to depart? Could he try to stick it out? Is there anything worth it on the outside of these walls to continue forth, enduring the pain? He thinks a lot about his kids, but they’ll probably be kept from him. They’re at a perfect age, where death doesn’t make sense yet to them. They won’t feel the hurt. What about his ideas of new music? Is it worthwhile to have a chance to explore that? Probably not. Who would want to listen to anything he has outside of Motley Crue. Is he allowing someone to win, by doing this. Has he walked straight into someone’s lure. He believes it might be Satan himself luring him. 

He thinks he’s ready, just working on the timing and mechanics of it, is all that’s left to do. He’s not leaving a note. He has nothing to say to his wife, his kids don’t need a reminder of an event they won’t remember, and he can’t leave anything meaningful for Nikki since other people will read it.

The next visitation is the day after tomorrow. It has to be done before then. He can’t bear to see anyone who he knows he might hurt, namely his family. He’s already kicked Nikki off of visitations. He doesn’t want his mind changed at this point either. As the beatings continue, he feels relief in knowing that there’s an end coming soon. It makes him wonder if he should at least leave a note about the abuse. It would maybe save others from the warden’s wrath.

Tommy has already tried leaping off of his bed, grasping onto the overhead lighting fixture. He could only hold it for about 2 seconds before they slipped off, but it held, and seemed sturdy. When the lights dim tonight, he’s going to work on shredding his pants into strips thin enough to weave and wrap into a noose, and strong enough to hold weight.

At 10:30, the PA blares that curfew is in 30 minutes. Tommy knows the lights will go down about 15 minutes later. His heart is pounding, as he tries to process that this will be his final day, and he won’t be walking up ever again to see another. He thinks it’s sad that he doesn’t even know what day it is, the day that will be etched on his headstone. He knows it’s July. A time he’d typically be outdoors everyday doing something kick ass. He’ll never see daylight again, or feel the sunshine on his face. He starts to cry.

Uncle Jack is off tonight. Tommy is glad. He doesn’t need him interfering, nor does he want Jack to be the one to find him, it would probably get him off. He jots a quick note down, that simply says, 

_Goodbye. Jack abuses inmates. Peace-_ he signs his name one last time; something he’s done thousands of times. He shuts his eyes…. what he wouldn’t do to be standing outside somewhere, signing autographs for smiling fans.

\------------

The lights finally dim. Tommy sits quietly for about 5 minutes, his head held up in his hands. He’s trying to make peace with himself, and with his maker. 

The noises of the day outside of his cell have quieted down, replaced by nighttime creaks, snores, and distant mumbles, thumps, and bangs from the further reaches of the jail, off the cell block. Tommy removes his pants, and starts ripping and knotting them into a makeshift rope, already starting the first tear earlier in the night in a place which wouldn’t be noticed. The drummer already determined the length it would have to be for it to work. He takes him about a half hour to craft something that will hold him; a sliding loop on both ends. 

It takes several attempts, but Tommy finally gets the pants rope slung over the lighting fixture, and slides one loop end through the other, pulling it tight, so the loop closes tightly around the light fixture. Now comes the final test. If this fails he’s in big trouble. He wants to make sure that the rope is going to hold by hanging on it by his arms. It’s gotta work. He only has this one chance. If the light fixture comes down, he’s in trouble. If the material snaps, he’s gotta find a way to fix it before he’s caught with no pants on.

Tommy takes a deep breath, reaches up to grab the rope firmly with his hands, then pulls his legs up off the ground. He hangs for about 5 seconds, then lets himself down. It’s going to hold. This is it…..

Tommy is shaking. He sits again, in the quiet, head in hands once again, making sure that he really wants to do this. He’s terrified. There’s no undoing it. These might be his last few moments of life. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to die alone and scared. He was once on top of the world, and now at the bottom, it’s time to go, and just make the pain stop.

Tommy stands, one foot on a slanted steel beam that anchors this bed to the wall, and the other foot’s braced on the wall. He’s unsteady, and already slipped off once, but it’s the only way he can get high enough to get his neck in the noose. He reaches for it, one hand bracing the wall, and places it around his neck. He shudders and tears form. He closes his eyes, remembering the phone cord wrapped around his neck, and the feeling of having his airway closed off. He wasn’t panicking at that time. He wanted to die. His heart is pounding. 

Nikki flashes into his mind, as he commits to letting go. “I’m sorry. I love you,” he whispers, wishing his final words to carry out into the night air towards Nikki. He takes one final breath, and lets his foot slip off the wall…..

\--------------------

Nikki’s phone is ringing in the wee hours of the morning. He’s lying in bed with his wife. Nikki coming out of a dream, is trying to figure out what time it is, and why the phone is ringing. His wife pushes on his arm. “Pick it up or make it stop,” she groans. Nikki blinks, coming to the realization that a phone call at this time, if not a wrong number, is generally bad news. The ringing stops. He missed the call. His heart is pounding. Who was it? What’s wrong? He rubs his face with his hands, and just then, the phone rings again. This time he snatches it up quickly.

“Hello,” he says, bracing for bad news.

“Nikki?” the voice on the other end asks, crying.

He can already tell something is wrong. “Yeah. Who is this? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Athena. It’s my brother,” she cries out.

Nikki feels faint. “What?” is all he can say, bracing himself for an answer.

“He tried to kill himself in his cell. He’s been brought to the hospital. I had no idea he…” Athena is choked up, and can barely speak.

“Where is he? And how bad?” Nikki asks, sobbing by now.

Tommy’s sister tells Nikki where Tommy was brought to, and tells him that it was an attempted hanging, and that he’s been responding to stimuli.

“Can I go there?” Nikki asks.

“My parents and I are going now. I’ll call you back, OK?”

“OK. Please don’t leave me waiting too long. I need to know he’s OK.”

“I know, Nikki. As soon as I know something,” Athena says, hanging up.

Nikki hangs up, barely aware that his wife is shaking him, asking what happened.

“Tommy attempted suicide,” Nikki sobs, getting out of bed.

“Oh my god. Is he OK?’ Donna asks, concerned.

“I don’t know. I---” Nikki drops to his knees and weeps.

Donna runs over to wrap her arms around him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sure he’ll be OK. Right? Who called?”

“His sister.”

“He’s going to be OK,” Donna says, trying to hush Nikki.

\--------------------------

The wait is tortuous for Nikki. He convinced his wife to check on the kids, and then get back into bed. He went downstairs, and just paced and cried; while waiting for the phone to ring again, thinking about what could have brought his Tommy to that god awful place of hopelessness. Nikki is all too familiar with that place of despair.

\---------------

Tommy’s eyes flutter open. It’s white and bright. He doesn’t know where he is, but he soon realizes that it’s too sterile to be anything other than a hospital. He realizes his attempt failed. Tears start flooding his eyes before a voice rings out.

“Mr. Lee, do you know where you are?”

Tommy nods, not knowing exactly where he is, but he knows it’s not where he expected to be, wherever that was going to be. 

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Tommy nods again. 

“We have to inform you that you are still in the custody of the L.A. County Jail.”

This sends a shiver down Tommy’s spine, as he’s peppered with a slew of other questions and statements. A police officer nearby tells him that a loud crash alerted the night warden to his cell, where he was discovered on the floor, unconscious, a makeshift rope tight around his neck, and a lighting fixture lying on top of him. It was quickly discovered that he was still alive, with a weak pulse, and immediately transferred to the hospital after unsuccessful attempts to wake him. The hospital determined that he had soft tissue damage to his neck, two head injuries from the light fixture smashing into his head and from the drop to the floor. As well as broken ribs and collarbone from the heavy industrial light landing on top of him. Also some less serious cuts, bruises, and abrasions. Some of those injuries are fresh and some are old, prompting a separate investigation.

The hospital explains to him that he will remain in their care until he’s medically cleared, and then will be transferred to the psychiatric patient ward for a full evaluation. His next destination to be determined after that; which will likely be a transfer back to the jail to finish out his sentence. It’s during this line of questioning that Tommy realizes that one arm is cuffed to the bed. He isn’t sure if it’s for his personal safety or because he’s an inmate. Either way, he’s mortified. This is not what he wanted. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

He’s not sure how long he hung for. He remembers the feeling of the rope choking up and not being able to breathe. A burning feeling, and a survival instinct to place his hands on the noose to alleviate the pressure. But he doesn’t remember doing that. He remembers nothing more. Did he pass out from lack of breath? Did he pass out from the light bashing him in the head? Or did he pass out from sheer terror? He’ll probably never know. What he does know, it’s only going to be a matter of time before he has to face his loved ones, and his wife. 

\---------------------

Nikki’s phone rings back, about 90 minutes later. It’s approaching dawn.

“Athena?” Nikki cries.

“He’s going to be OK. He’s going to live,” she gushes out.

Nikki breaks down. “Are you there? Is he awake? When can I come?”

“We’re here. He’s awake, but he’s out of it, and he’s not saying much. He’s mumbled sorry a handful of times.”

“Can I come?”

“Can I recommend, around 8:30 or 9? I’m actually leaving soon. My parents are staying. My husband has to go to work, and I need to get home for the kids. And I know that Tommy’s wife is coming around 7 before she has to be in for work.”

“Really? Why is she--”

“I know, Nikki. They’re still married, and it’s also probably about the kids.”

“OK. Thanks for letting me know,” Nikki says, sniffling.

“Listen Nikki. I know stuff, OK. I’m not saying that to put you on the spot. I just know what you mean to each other.”

While Nikki has suspected Tommy’s sister knew something about them, he wasn’t positive. Tommy never revealed whether he told her. He’s not sure how to respond, and stays silent.

“I’m sorry, Nikki. I know that must have just caught you off guard. I’ve known for years. My brother and I are close, OK?” Athena starts to cry again. “I don’t know what I’d do without him. Please help him, Nikki. He’ll listen to you.”

“I don’t know about that, as of lately.”

“I know. It’s the jail. Something changed him. We gotta get him back.”

“I’ll give everything I have, to try.”

“I know you will. Call me later, will you?”

“I will. Does the rest of the band know?”

“No. I’m sorry I didn’t--”

“It’s OK. I’ll give Mick a quick call, a little later, before I leave. He can call Vince and management.”

“Talk to you later, love.”

“OK,” Nikki says, hanging up. He’s relieved to hear that Tommy is going to be alright, but really feels no better. He steps outside to sit in the quiet of the morning as the sun rises, and cries. This could have been the first day without his Tommy in it.

\------------------

It’s 8:30. Nikki is at the hospital. He came in through the emergency area, not knowing where to go. Requesting visitation for Tommy Lee, the receptionists asks Nikki to sit in a nearby chair, and tells him to wait. About 10 minutes later, a staff member approaches Nikki and tells him that he can follow him.

“His wife was just here about 45 minutes ago. Damn, she sort of made me stop in my tracks. I saw her walking out. She takes your breath away. Sometimes it’s hard to believe who comes in and out of here,” the naive orderly shares.

Nikki doesn’t care. Wishing that the bitch would just walk out of Tommy’s life forever.

As Nikki is led down another hallway, he sees an officer sitting in a chair, outside the room. He swallows hard, knowing that Tommy is probably in that room. He’s nervous. Afraid to see Tommy in this life after death situation. Afraid that he’ll say the wrong words. Afraid that he’ll be asked to leave. 

“Right in there, Mr. Sixx. Um, he’s cuffed. Just letting you know,” the orderly flashes a nervous smile to the rockstar behind the sunglasses and the stationed officer, then leaves. The officer gives Nikki the once over, then goes back to his newspaper, bored by all of this.

“Leave the door open,” the officer says, as Nikki enters.

He steps in. Tommy appears to be asleep. Tears immediately flood Nikki’s eyes, as he removes his sunglasses. He feels nauseous. He takes the seat near Tommy’s bed, careful not to wake him. He studies the face of his sleeping lover. It’s battle scarred and worn. Nikki is heartbroken. He wants to take Tommy’s pain away and hold him. He can’t help but to reach out and place his hand on top of the drummer’s; curling his fingers around to take hold. While he doesn’t want to wake him, knowing that sleep is probably the best escape for Tommy right now, he needs his touch. It’s been too long. Nikki melts at the warmth of the contact. He’s content to just stay like this for as long as he can. No words have to be said. No explaining or shame. Tommy’s at peace for the moment and Nikki feels more alive than he has been as the drummer instinctively presses his fingers onto Nikki’s hand.

Roughly an hour passes by. Two nurses come in the check on Tommy, they ask the bassist to step back, and close the curtain. Nikki can hear Tommy groaning as he’s being awoken. Nikki is nervous, knowing that Tommy most likely doesn’t know that he’s waiting on the other side of the curtain. He holds his head in his hand, trying to control his breathing. The nurses are with Tommy for about 10 minutes. They leave him with a tray of easy to eat breakfast, that he can use his free hand to bring to his mouth. On the way out, one nurse mentions to Tommy that he has a visitor waiting behind the curtain, as she pushes it back.

Nikki is nervous, and stands there biting his lip. Tommy is shaken when he sees him, pushing his food tray off to the side, so he can shrink down in his bed.

“When did you get here?” Tommy asks.

“About an hour ago,” Nikki replies.

Tommy responds with a nod.

“Are you OK with me here?” Nikki asks.

“You could be here. I just wish that I wasn’t.”

Nikki nods, not sure how to respond to that. “Do you mind if I sit here,” Nikki asks, pointing to the chair that he was sitting in prior to the nurses visit.

“It’s fine.” Tommy is more ashamed right now, than any other emotion. He’s not angry. He’s not upset with Nikki in general. As a matter of fact, he knows that if Nikki didn’t show up at some point today, that he’d be hurt. That doesn’t mean that he really wants to see him. He’s just highly embarrassed that he’s in this position. A failure. It’s uncomfortable.

Nikki sits, and takes a few deep breaths, mindlessly wringing his hands, as he figures out what to say. Tommy awaits, uneasy. He got through facing his family. They sat and cried. They told him they loved him. They asked why? He couldn’t answer; partially from delirium and partially from shame. Then his wife. Tommy couldn’t tell whether she really cared or not. She seemed upset, but offered no meaningful words or sentiments from her heart. She mentioned that what he did wasn’t fair to the kids. While she’s correct in her view, it made little sense coming from her, after she told him, good luck in trying to maintain custody or even visitation rights. She left, leaving him with fake sentiments to heal and be well. He now wonders what Nikki is going to throw at him. He’s not in the mood for Nikki to try to make him feel guilty in any way for shutting him out. He’s really not ready to deal with him at all. Tommy’s in no shape to care for him or to work on their relationship, if it still exists, until he reconciles with himself. He hasn’t even decided yet whether he’s thankful to be alive, or if this is just a hiccup in his ultimate plan to end things. There’s so much to unpack here. It’s more than his damaged brain can handle right now.

“You look pretty banged up,” Nikki sighs.

“I guess I did a number on myself. Not one, but 2 concussions. Cracked my skull with one of them,” Tommy says, with a fake laugh. “They got me buckled up here so I can’t do it again.”

Nikki just stares with a concerned look on his face, wetness in his eyes.

“Pretty stupid, right? But, everyone already knows that I’m stupid. After I’m cleared medically, they’ll move me to the psych ward. Probably should have been put there years ago. But this time, I’ll get to be among the elite, the criminally insane. The ones who will want to eat me or have their psyches directing them to kill me. Should be fun. Then back to jail on suicide watch; probably in solitude and stripped naked with nothing in there with me,” Tommy says, followed by another fake laugh. Then his face gets serious. “I shouldn’t be here. It was supposed to be over. I fucked it up. Made it worse….. Leave it to me,” he says, his voice fading out. Tommy waits for Nikki to start blathering about how special he is or how loved he is, or some bullshit like that. It won’t help. Nothing will.

“You know, Tom, I can close my eyes, and easily transport myself back to when we were on the Girls tour. I was in that place. I remember it like yesterday. The pain. The loneliness. And no hope. I was determined to die…... I told myself over and over that’s what needed to happen, but with no real plan in place. I knew I was on a reckless course, and figured that one day my time would be up. Sometimes it scared me to not know when. I wondered if I should put a plan in place. It was pretty surreal to wake up everyday, and wonder if it would be my last,” Nikki exhales.

“I’d just continue the course though. If I didn’t already knock myself out with drugs or alcohol for the night, I had this ritual. I’d pour a bunch of pills, downers or sleeping pills into my palm, and I’d try to guess which one was going to be the one that would push me over the line of death….. There had to be a tipping point, right? If I was having a good day. I pick one of those pills in my palm and put it back in the bottle or baggie, thinking that I’d preserve my life for one more day. But if I was having a bad day, I tap one more out of the bottle. I was always convinced that was the killer. I stare at that little bastard of a pill, convinced that it wanted me dead. They’d get washed down with whatever alcohol I had on hand, and I’d tell the world to kiss my ass goodbye. It was a sick little ritual…... But, it was worse when we were home on breaks," Nikki sighs. "I never told you this, but I’d always have my guns next to me. I needed them to defend myself from the intruders that I dreamed up in my drug addled mind. Loaded and cocked, ready to shoot. I can’t tell you how many times I put the gun barrels in my mouth; still loaded, safety off, trembling finger putting tension on the trigger. I was so close on some nights. I can’t even begin to explain the things that were running through my head. Why I never pulled the trigger. I can’t explain. Maybe a shred of hope was still flickering inside of me somewhere,” Nikki continues on, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“One night, I dared to play Russian roulette. One bullet in the chamber. Spun it, put it to my head, and pulled the trigger. It clicked, and that’s it. I dropped the gun, realizing what could have just happened, and just lost it. It was a defining moment when I realized I wasn’t brave enough to intentionally kill myself. I checked later.... that bullet was the next round. I don't know if I ever felt such terror course through me. But it didn’t matter. I knew that the drugs would kill me soon. I just had enough. I felt like a piece of worthless garbage. Unable to be loved. I--”

“I loved you,” Tommy says, interrupting.

“I know, T," Nikki says, biting his lip. "But at the time, I was so far down the hole, I couldn’t see the good things in front of me; just pain and darkness. Then it happened. I died.”

“You did better than me. You actually crossed the white line. I can’t do anything right.”

“Tom…. aren’t you glad I was revived?”

“I know, Nikki. I know the point that you’re trying to make.”

“I’m not really trying to make a parallel. I just want you to know that I understand what it’s like to be in that pit of despair, where all you can think about is death because life hurts too much.

“A little different when you wake up handcuffed to a bed,” Tommy says, flatly.

“You’re right. A lot was different. Our problems, our methods, our day afters. Despite people coming out in droves to show their support. I went home and did it again. Came close to killing myself again, getting even more people upset and worried about me. I didn’t care because I couldn’t see anything beyond my internal pain and misery,” Nikki recalls, wiping tears away.

“It’s over 10 years later, and I made it. Somehow. And I have the privilege to look back over those 10 years and see what I did. The music, my kids. My time with you, learning that I was wrong about being unlovable and unwanted. People can love me.”

“It’s easy for you to say now. I have to go back to jail. That’s my future. 4 fucking bare walls; threatened by people who want to kick my fucking ass and watch me suffer.”

“Recovery wasn’t easy. I fought it tooth and nail. I did a lot of it for you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel good or bad?”

“I’m not trying to make you feel one way or another. I’m just sharing my story, and I want you to know that you were part of it. I would have missed out on a lot of amazing stuff, and an amazing person,” Nikki says, choking up.

“You would have made it without me. You’re stronger than I am.”

“It’s not something I’ll ever know, but I do know that I’m forever grateful for having my best friend with me through my recovery. You inspired me, and you were by my side every step, even the set-backs. You never let me give up, Nikki cries. “Let me have that chance, Tommy. Let me show you how beautiful life can be, again. Like you did for me.”

“I’m not strong enough to go back to that jail,” Tommy says, tearing up.

“Then we’re going to work to get you to stay here. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s a step up. About 5 more weeks of your life. I’ll talk to your wife. Maybe I can convince her to petition for you to stay under the care of these doctors. Or Donna can convince her. Come on, man. We’re going to get you through this. Please give yourself another chance at life. I’ll make everyday worth your while.”

“My head is hurting,” Tommy says, leaning back, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Go ahead and keep up your act of trying to throw me off. Trust me, I’m the master of it. I know all about it. But the last 17 years of my life with you by my side, especially the years following my overdose, taught me how to love and how to be loved. You taught me how to be loved. So you can shit on me all you want. Tell me to leave. Fight me. I will never believe that I’m not loved by you. That’s your fault. You’re too good of a teacher.”

Tommy pulls his arm off of his eyes, and spreads his fingers over his eyes to still shield them somewhat. Tommy breathes deeply, “You were my last thought before I let go. I told you I loved you, and I hoped that you’d somehow get my message,” Tommy weeps.

“It’s been written on my heart since the first time you said it to me,” Nikki says, in a whisper.

Tommy actually cracks a smile, probably for the first time in a long time. “You spit on me and told me to go fuck myself the first time I told you that.”

“That’s the Sixx way, deflection. But it still penetrated; like an arrow to my heart.”

Tommy extended his hand for Nikki to take hold of. He threads his fingers into Nikki’s, reveling in the familiar touch.

“Nikki, don’t let go of me. I need you to pull me up. I’m broken. I’m just not sure if I can do this.”

“I’ve never let go. I never will, baby."

“Please, teach me how to live again,” Tommy breathes, feeling the sun beginning to stream through the window and shine on his face.

“Everyday the sun rises, I’m going to love you,” Nikki says, kissing the drummer's hand.

Tommy leans back on the bed, closes hi eyes to soak in the warmth of the sun on his face, and the comforting warmth of Nikki's hand.


End file.
